


Last Chance

by sludgebomb



Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher (Video Game), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Alpha Lambert (The Witcher), Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Aphrodisiacs, Begging, Breeding Kink, First Time, Forced Orgasm, Knotting, M/M, Omega OMC, Pheromones, Rut, Torture, assailant becomes the victim, ruined orgasm, smaller rapist/larger victim
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-03
Updated: 2020-11-03
Packaged: 2021-03-08 20:48:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,095
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27372964
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sludgebomb/pseuds/sludgebomb
Summary: Lambert is still un-presented at 16 years old. A witcher with an unknown status is an incredibly dangerous thing. The master witchers would rather cull him than let him on the Path like that. Vesemir calls on a friend, an acquaintance who has been working on a way to trigger a person's mating cycle. Things don't exactly go as planned.
Relationships: Lambert (The Witcher)/Original Male Character(s)
Comments: 4
Kudos: 32





	Last Chance

**Author's Note:**

  * For [WhatICantShowYou](https://archiveofourown.org/users/WhatICantShowYou/gifts).



> Heed! The! Tags! This contains non-con and an underage character, please care for yourself if this is a trigger for you.

Over time, though he didn't know when, Vesemir became a worrier. Sometimes, he could manage it, but during other times he felt almost like a hand-wringing beta stereotype.

One of the sophomore pups had still not presented, almost a year after the rest of the group. Lambert was his through the law of surprise, a raging spitfire that had a black eye more often than not. He was already a headache under normal circumstances, but he was getting to the age where the young witchers were to go out into the valley and hunt for monsters alone, a precursor to the Trial of the Medallion. Typically, the young witchers would have already been through a mating cycle or two, allowing them to have the necessary control they needed to prevent vulnerability on the Path. 

Witchers, no matter their second sex, were still a danger to themselves as well as others when hormones took control. Even a beta can be triggered into rut or heat like behaviors when influenced, so it is important that each witcher knows his weaknesses--as well as how to overcome them. And Lambert would need more preparation than most; he had little self-control, ready to succumb to any emotion or external stimuli. If it weren't for his spirit and true skill with his weapons, the older witchers would have culled him before the Grasses. 

Now, they were losing vital time to teach this kid what he needed to know. The master witchers had tried all the usual tactics like taking bedding from other witchers in heat or rut and wrapping Lambert in it, making him inhale the scent and get it on his skin. Other than the fight the kid put up to get away from the other witchers, there was no sign of the pheromones affecting him. They had even tried to trigger his presentation with stimulation, Rennes fucking two fingers into the pup while massaging where a knot might pop at the base of his soft cock. All that earned them was waking up to boots full of piss the next day, his form of petty revenge. 

When spring melted the last of the ice caps on the mountains, Vesemir knew there was reason to be concerned. He penned a letter to be sent by the mages to an associate, an expert of sorts in manipulating the changes related to the second sex. Vesemir let him know that there was an especially challenging case to be cracked, with a good deal of gold attached if he would help the young witcher to present. 

~~~

The journey down the mountain was easy this time of year. The seasoned witchers would clear out the roving packs of wolves and harpies as they went back to the Path, which had Lambert suspicious from the start. 

"Thought you said you were taking me out for a hunt, old man." That earned Lambert a cuff to the back of the head, gentle compared to the usual punishments, but still enough to make his vision double. 

"Just because we are out of the keep does not mean I am not your superior, young wolf. I am taking you on an assignment, yes, and that is a _privilege._ If you'd rather, we can turn around and I can have you on iron mining duty. Is that what you want?" Vesemir quirked an eyebrow at Lambert, who looked down, trying to hide the way anger made his face screw up. Though the mines had been dry for the better part of a century, unruly trainees were sent to labor there as punishment. Lambert had been there often. 

"Well?"

"No." Lambert grumbled, chin to his chest.

"No what?" Vesemir would be lying if he said he didn't get great satisfaction from drawing even a hint of submission from the little hellraiser.

"No, sir. I want to stay on the assignment." He said each word like it tasted foul in his mouth. Vesemir smirked. 

"Good boy. Now be patient, we'll be there by the end of the day." 

Lambert cringed.

~~~

They entered a village around sunset. An honest-to-gods place of civilization at the base of the mountain. Lambert's eyes darted from stall to stall as they passed through the market, overwhelmed by the number of _normal_ people walking around. If only this had been a few years earlier, he would have tried to slip into the crowd and find a kind, foolish woman who would take pity on him and adopt him. He would escape the steel grip of Vesemir, the death sentence of being a witcher. 

Now though, the townspeople looked at him with a mix of disgust and pity. He knew to them he appeared even younger than he was, had the clean, neutral scent of an unpresented whelp, but with the unnatural amber eyes of a witcher. His cheeks tinged pink with embarrassment; his status had been such a focus for the past few seasons that even thinking about it brought him great shame. Lambert knew something was wrong with him, that even the master witchers weren't such sadists that they would enjoy violating him over and over to get him to present. What if he presented randomly on the Path, and wasn't a beta? Witchers who experienced their mating cycles outside of the keep were often subject to violent abuse, or so he'd been told. He couldn't stand to ask the witchers what violence meant to them if what they did to him wasn't considered such. 

Worse, what if he never presented? Already a freak, already sterile, but now lacking the piece that even mutants still got to keep. It would mean he was broken beyond repair, meant to be seen forever as a child, as inferior. 

By the time they reached a small hut on the far end of the village, Lambert was so deep in his feelings of self-loathing that he didn't even notice the man come to greet them at the door. 

"Vesemir! It is good to see you. To what do I owe the pleasure?" His voice was so jovial that it snapped Lambert out of his thoughts. 

The man stood at the entrance of the door. He was an omega, it was plain to the senses. He had a sweet, alluring smell to him, though as someone who had not presented Lambert couldn't identify the subtleties of it. Begrudgingly, Lambert found him attractive; he was slight, coming up to Lambert's chin with a shock of blond hair. He had only the faintest hints of facial hair which was customary for his sex and well maintained. His clothing was plain, save for a small letter N, embroidered in red on the breast pocket of his shirt. 

"Good to see you again, friend. This is my child-surprise, Lambert. We're on a special assignment crucial to his training. I was hoping that we might stop here for the night before continuing on, if you're amicable." Vesemir was giving a genuine smile to the omega. Friend? Vesemir had friends? 

Friends who...looked at Lambert like they wanted to swallow him whole.

"That depends, grey wolf, did you bring me any goods from your stockpile?" The omega's tone was playful, but Vesemir produced several jars from his pack; Lambert recognizing endrega embryos, griffin feathers, and even the vocal cords of a siren among the stock. Was this man an alchemist, then? 

"Yes, and some mandrake for good measure. I'm not the type to come empty-handed." Vesemir sounded like he was about to launch into a speech about the importance of hospitality, but the omega was already grinning wildly as he took the ingredients from Vesemir, waving them in as an afterthought. 

"There's a stew on the stove that has just finished simmering. I'm going to sort these, and I'll be right back!" He called from where he was descending into the basement. Vesemir nodded his head toward the hut, encouraging Lambert to step inside. Not knowing what exactly to make of the interaction, he entered cautiously. 

The home was surprisingly comfortable, an herbaceous scent permeating the place that confirmed Lambert's suspicion that the omega was an alchemist, or at the very least a healer. The table had been set for three already, though he didn't notice any other scents in the house. The stew smelled delicious, and the warmth of the fire settled the young witcher to a small degree, though that detail nagged him. 

Before he could ask Vesemir more about how he knew this strange man, the omega was back from his trip to the basement and grabbing bowls for the stew. He asked Vesemir how things had been at the keep, which caused the older witcher to begin a long, meandering story of this past winter's activities. The omega wasn't even looking at him, his back turned as he prepared their meals, but he still nodded along. Lambert tuned out, only perking up when their host placed a bowl in front of him, with a large slice of fluffy bread sticking out. His mouth started to water.

The alchemist and Vesemir sat chatting away over their meal, eating slowly as they caught up. Lambert, with the ravenous appetite of an adolescent witcher, downed bowl after bowl, the host happy to refill it as long as he could eat it. Even the cooks at Kaer Morhen weren't this generous, or this skilled in the kitchen. By the end of his meal, Lambert could barely keep his eyes open, snapping awake after not even realizing he had fallen to sleep. Vesemir's voice droned on and on, with only a few interjections from the kind omega that had taken them in. Lambert felt warm, full, and contented, fighting the drowsiness was getting harder and harder. Vesemir and the omega (what was his name, again?) would wake him up when it was time to clean up, a quick rest couldn't hurt. 

Lambert leaned forward on the table, resting his head in his arms as he closed his eyes. 

~~~

Aching. Lambert's whole body was aching as he hazily swam to consciousness. His eyelids were too heavy to lift, forcing him to take stock of his body through feeling alone. His arms felt like they were on fire, pins prickling in his hands like he slept on them wrong. His shoulders popped as he tried to move them, only to find that he was held in place. 

He jolted awake, yanking at his arms with force as adrenaline flooded his body. His arms stayed firmly bound over his head, causing him to crane his neck and ignore the shooting pain down his spine just to see what restrained him. A chain was wrapped around both wrists, threaded through an eyelet attached to a wooden beam in the ceiling. He was kneeling on a padded stool, too high up to be able to touch the floor if he were to stand. To his horror, he realized he was stripped of his armor and underclothes, hanging stark naked in the middle of a dim room. He tried to cast igni, his most practiced sign, but felt an emptiness in him when he went to reach for his magic. He tried again, envisioning it like a wellspring inside of him that he could draw from. His hand cramped as it drew the sign again, not even so much as a spark. He felt bile rise in his throat at the realization of his own helplessness. It never failed, Lambert always seemed to end up in a situation where he was powerless.

"Oh good, you're up." A voice cut through the panic in Lambert's mind, but did not settle it. The mop of blond hair he caught out of the corner of his vision told him what he already knew, it was the alchemist. How did someone so small drag him down here?

“Hey! Let me go right now you little cocksucker, and maybe I'll let you live! Later, you won’t be so lucky.” He put as much menace he could into his voice as he could, glaring hard enough to cut.

~~~

The alchemist couldn’t help but laugh, Vesemir wasn’t kidding when he said this one had no sense. Who threatens the life of their captor? Still, the pup had tenacity; he was up and shouting only a few hours after taking twice the usual dose of a sleeping potion slipped into his supper. This bode well for the experiment he was about to conduct. 

“Relax, little wolf,” the witcher thrashed in his bonds at the pet name, snarling, “I am not here to harm you.”

“Bullshit! Where’s Vesemir? You have him chained up too? Vesemir!! Can you hear me!?” Lambert’s voice grated against the omega’s sensitive ears as he shouted to the ceiling, and he couldn't help but flinch before resuming his more relaxed posture. 

“I don’t think you understand, so let me enlighten you; you have a problem, and your mentor hired me to fix it for you. There is a great deal of money resting on me to help you present, though I would have done it for free--I’ve always had a soft spot for the late bloomers.” He can’t help but wink at the kid as he turns beet red from embarrassment. 

“I--you can’t. He wouldn’t--” Lambert sputtered out, trying to deny the reality he was being faced with. Poor kid. 

“He did. He cares about you very much, you know. Most in your shoes would have been euthanized long before getting to my doorstep, but Vesemir paid for this out of his own pocket. This is your last chance, more or less, to present and continue with your training.” The omega kept his voice calm and steady. It was already a serious situation, there was no need to punch up the dramatics. There would be plenty of that later, he assumed. 

The pup stared at him, teeth bared and amber eyes narrowed with hatred, but they were glassy, as if he might cry. It took everything in him for the omega to not reach out and comfort him, instead he reached for the vial and the small container of salve he had in his pocket. Drawing closer to the witcher, the alchemist uncorked the vial and began to pour the contents onto the witcher’s bare chest. Lambert rounded his back, contorting within his binds to try and escape the substance. He couldn't get far, and the alchemist’s slender, diligent fingers worked the oily substance into Lambert’s skin, from his stomach up to his neck. It prickles on his skin immediately, a burning pain that flares and numbs, leaving his chest flushed angry and red.

“This is a pheromone concentration unlike any other,” he explained as he massaged the oil into Lambert’s left pectoral, making his nipples harden in spite of his discomfort. “Whereas some stimulants might have the essence of an omega in heat, I have combined my own essence with that of a succubus to create a near-instant rutting episode.” Pride swelled in him as he thought of seeing his research work before his very eyes, finally entering its trial phase. The young witcher had his head hung in bitter silence, the scent of saltwater indicating that his tears had finally spilled. The omega tsked and scooped some of the salve onto two fingers, massaging it in his hand before wrapping it around Lambert’s flaccid cock. The witcher jumped and began thrashing again until the hand around his cock tightened into an iron grip. He let out a yelp before stilling, chest heaving at the exertion. 

“That’s enough of that. You will need this cream if you want any hope of not having this cute prick of yours split when you pop your knot. You’re an alpha, by the way. I saw the presence of extra erectile tissue when I was examining you, it’s quite a lot. Just right here.” The spot he pressed on caused the pup to jump, precome dribbling from his still-soft cock, “You should be proud, you’re going to have a knot people will drool for.” 

“An alpha?” Lambert’s voice was quiet, rasping from his earlier screams, but still awed.

The alchemist nodded. “Just so.” He stood, wiping his hands on a rag before pushing some blond fringe from his eyes. “Now, because you have gone through your Grasses, this may take some time to kick in. I will come to check on you shortly to see how it is progressing. Be a good boy for me and don’t struggle much, I’d be loath to see the son of a good friend all bruised up.” Without waiting for a reply, the omega gathered his supplies, leaving via the cellar door and locking it behind him. 

~~~

The second the alchemist left, Lambert dissolved into wracking sobs, head spinning. He couldn’t begin to wrap his mind around anything that was happening, that Vesemir would _pay_ for him to be essentially tortured and then deliver him to his torturer. This was low, lower than even Lambert thought the old man capable of. And what was with this strange, mad scientist omega? He looked to the casual observer to be kind, harmless. He was so small, whipcord thin in a way that conveyed no danger, but the predation in his eye when he squeezed Lambert’s cock was undeniable. This man would get off on his suffering, there was no doubt. 

And, gods, _this_ is how he finally presents? So defective he had to be a researcher’s subject? Lambert felt hopeless, he had not been so thoroughly overtaken by the unfairness of his life since he was forcibly dragged to Kaer Morhen. Normally, the thought filled him with rage, but now he couldn’t even muster that, as hot tears fell. 

Between his mental and physical exhaustion, it didn’t take Lambert long to feel drowsy again. He knew he should be coming up with an escape plan but his thoughts felt sluggish, coming to him delayed like an echo in a valley. Every time he turned his head, he would get another smell of the potent stimulant smeared on his body, and every time it smelled more delicious. He felt almost energized by it after a while, the part of his brain responsible for mating responding to the scent of an omega in heat. He could feel his balls becoming sore and tender, swelling with useless seed. It had begun, his first rut. The knowledge only made him panicked once more, eyes darting around the dim basement for an escape. 

Lambert didn’t think of anything past escaping. He had no clothes, no weapons, and he was covered in enough pheromones to trigger a fiend to knot. The fear of being trapped alone, or worse, at the mercy of the alchemist, through his rut overwhelmed all other possibilities. With great strain in his abdominal muscles, Lambert began to swing back and forth as far as the stool under him would allow, hoping to dislodge the eyelet from where it was screwed into the ceiling. There was a small amount of sawdust that fell to the floor, but it didn’t budge. Before he could continue, he heard footsteps approach and forced himself to still. 

This time, he knew the second the alchemist stepped into the room, his brain making the connection between the sickly sweet smell of an omega in heat and the much more subdued scent of the omega standing in front of him. He wanted to be disaffected or even revolted, but instead, he felt himself leaning toward the man, at least until he came to his senses and pulled back, growling. 

“My, you’re really an anomaly, little wolf. Any human would already have gone senseless with their need to rut, witchers too. Yet here you are, not even fully hard for me.” The alchemist sounded disappointed.

Lambert looked down, not even aware of when he’d become aroused at all, yet there was no denying the way his cock was half-hard and rising, the band around the base showing the barest hints of thickening. He felt sick, tried to tell himself that it wasn’t him, just the pheromones making him react this way, but that didn’t make him feel any better. He was like an animal, base in its desires and a slave to its biology. 

“Fuck you.” He managed to grit out from behind his bared teeth, which itched to sink into the small shoulder muscle just peeking out from under the omega’s collar. The alchemist barked out a laugh.

“Mmm, I plan on it. I am supposed to see you through this, after all. But you aren’t where I want you yet. I might have to give you a little encouragement.” Lambert didn’t want encouragement, he wanted to strangle the bastard to death, and then go find Vesemir and do the same. But it wasn’t like he had much of a choice, even less so when the stool he was kneeling on was kicked out from under him.

The pain of screaming on his already sore throat was nothing compared to his arms being nearly wrenched from their sockets. Lambert couldn’t even kick, he just swang in the air from his wrists, raw and bloody, feeling every ounce of his weight bearing down on them. The wooden beam he was attached to creaked from his weight, and Lambert prayed it would break. It didn't, and he was left hanging there for agonizing moments. 

Thankfully, the alchemist gave some slack to the chain and lowered him to the ground. It was not enough to do anything but allow him to stand upright, but it kept his arms from being anymore damaged than they already are. Lambert sobbed, just once, in relief as his feet met the ground firmly. 

“If you don’t behave for me, I have no problem raising that chain again and leaving you to swing. Having your footing is a privilege, remember that. Now, what do you say?” 

The witcher balked in spite of his last shred of self-preservation. Vesemir had used this same phrasing on their way down the mountain. Had this really been so planned? He felt nauseous, disgusted with how easily he was fooled. He swallowed thickly, trying to prevent himself from vomiting down his naked chest. 

“Thank you, sir.” Lambert hated himself. The alchemist’s eyes sparkled with malicious, unrestrained joy.

“There might just be hope of training you yet, pup. For that, I think I’ll reward you.” A small hand wrapped around his cock, still not completely soft after all of the pain he’d experienced. With only a few firm tugs it was fully hard, electricity zinging through Lambert as though this were the greatest pleasure he had ever felt. Usually, the head was where he focused on the few nights he had enough privacy to touch himself, but now it was the squeezing that the omega was doing at the base that was causing him to writhe. Precome seemed to leak from him with every upstroke, soaking the alchemist’s hand and making him purr in appreciation.

It felt amazing, he wanted to bury himself into the omega’s hand and grind into it so he could always feel the tightness around his swelling knot. His pain faded to background sensation quickly, and he felt his heavy, sore balls want to draw up as the alchemist continued to pump him. The man had to stand at his full height to make eye contact with Lambert, a toothy grin on his face as he drew in even closer. 

“Does that feel good, puppy? Do you want to knot my hand?” Lambert shook his head wildly side to side. _No!_ He didn’t want a hand, not when an omega was right in front of him to rut into. The hand gripped him tighter at his base and a high whine escaped the back of his throat. The alchemist laughed again, clearly amused by the display. 

“No? Do you want something better? If I let you use my hole, will you continue to be a good boy for me?” The witcher nodded frantically.

“Yes, yes sir I-I’ll be good for you!” The words were spilling out of his mouth with no forethought, and in the small, rational part of his brain, Lambert was horrified at his extreme submission. This was his captor, a person who moments ago had just seriously hurt him! But, from this angle, looking down at the omega as he stroked his cock, Lambert wanted him, more than he'd ever wanted _anything._ This omega triggered his rut with the scent of his heat, even though it was artificial. Lambert felt the need to mate him as the instinctual need to satisfy his rut mounted, threatening to choke him with its urgency. 

“Say it, beg me for the privilege, or I’ll leave you to calm yourself down.” Panic rose in Lambert’s chest hearing that. The omega couldn’t leave, his brain was telling him that this was supposed to be _his_ omega to rut into. He was covered in the omega’s scent so it must be true, even though his last vestiges of rationality were telling him it wasn’t. If his omega left, and he couldn’t chase him down, Lambert wouldn’t be able to soothe the aching in his balls, feel the true satisfaction of knotting and filling his omega. He had to be good, he had to. 

“Puh-please, omega, let me use your hole. I can,” Lambert swallowed thickly, trying not to trip over his words, “I’ll make it so good for you, breed you right like we’re supposed to. It’ll feel so good when I knot you, let me be a good alpha for you, _please.”_ Lambert’s voice was cracking with effort, he didn’t even know what he was saying, just babbling out as his hips stuttered into the alchemist’s grip. His eyes shone with fresh tears, so scared of being left unsatisfied and in pain. 

The alchemist moaned softly and cursed under his breath, his hand working faster over Lambert’s shaft. “You say the prettiest things, little alpha. I’m pleased with how well you respond, it shows me that all you need is a firm hand and a short leash. Here, take your reward.” 

The alchemist stepped away to grab the stool he had kicked out from under Lambert, setting it up in front of the pup, who was whining at the loss of contact and thrashing in his bonds to try and get closer to his omega. The alchemist pulled his trousers down over his narrow hips and bent over the stool, exposing his slick, loosened furl. He couldn’t deny how much this experience with the young witcher had turned him on. If it weren’t for the suppressant he’d taken, the exceedingly strong scent of a first rut would have triggered his heat; biology telling him to catch from the incredibly potent seed even as he knew the kid was sterile. 

“Here you go puppy, a nice, wet hole all for you.” The alchemist waved his hips to entice him, though he didn’t need to, Lambert humping forward to get at his hole. He was placed just far enough away that the witcher could rub his cock through the slick pouring from him, but not actually get inside, let alone mate him. He had no intention of actually going through with the knotting; young alphas were too dangerous, often tearing omegas because they wouldn’t stay tied, too desperate to keep fucking. But the poor witcher didn’t know that, the _hah, hah,_ of his panting loud behind the omega as he tried and failed to catch the winking entrance in front of him. 

The hot, leaking cock rubbing over his hole felt good all the same, and the omega wrapped a hand around his own member jacking himself slowly, while Lambert struggled. He could feel the pup’s knot swell after only a few moments, and heat pooled low in his belly at the thought of Lambert spending without ever even getting the tip inside. 

“Omega, please! I’ve been good, right? Good for you, _pleasepleaseplease_ let me inside, I’m so close sir,” Lambert’s instincts were demanding that he not waste any seed, he had to spend inside his omega so he could catch, but his orgasm was fast approaching and he couldn't stop from trusting between the alchemist’s cheeks. 

When the alchemist reached behind him, Lambert could have wept with joy, so thankful his omega was deeming him worthy to be inside him. His joy was snuffed like a flame when instead the hand wrapped around his knot, fingers not even able to meet from how swollen it was, and began to squeeze. He was milking Lambert’s knot, triggering his orgasm as the young alpha howled miserably. He watched as his wasted come covered his omega, thicker and more copious than he had ever seen it. The alchemist didn't let up his grip on Lambert's knot, squeezing every last drop out of him and moaning as he felt it pour over his sensitive hole. 

Coming didn't soothe Lambert's rut at all, especially because he wasn't able to seed his omega. Rage welled up inside him; he had been so good! He had done everything his omega asked and he was still denied. Had he not proven himself enough? 

The alchemist released his knot, which hadn't deflated, and made a move to stand. It triggered Lambert's instinctual rage and possessiveness even more at the idea of his omega rejecting him and leaving. With strength he shouldn't have still had, Lambert gave a shout in pain and effort as he pulled his arms down, the wood above him creaking until it gave way and his binds fell to the floor. 

~~~

The alchemist turned in shock but had no time to react as he was knocked to the ground, Lambert's still-chained hands coming around to press against his neck, pulling him until he was back to chest with his adolescent captive. Fear flushed ice-cold through him, he hadn't expected the witcher to have that amount of fight still in him after his sedation. 

"You can't leave, you're  _ my  _ omega, you'll carry  _ my _ pups." Lambert was growling low in his ear, hard cock pressed against the small of the alchemist’s back. 

_ His omega? Pups? _ The witcher must be delusional in his rut, seeking to claim whatever was in front of him. As his sharp teeth bit down onto the alchemist’s neck, mere inches from where a mating bite would be, he shrieked, struggling against the chain at his throat. He managed to duck down, throwing his arms out to catch him before his face hit the ground. 

Before he could attempt to crawl away, get out of the cellar and into town to get Vesemir, the alchemist felt the whole weight of the witcher as he pressed his hands down between his bony shoulder blades. His chest was forced down onto the hard dirt of the basement floor, trapped under the witcher with his ass in the air.

"That's good, good omega, presenting for me." Lambert's words were slurred as he ground the head of his cock against the alchemist’s hole. The blond struggled under his weight, clenching to try and prevent the intrusion but with his slick and the witcher’s come, it was easy for Lambert to slide the first few inches in. He pulled back out, growling before slamming as much of his cock in as he could, his knot too big to enter the omega just yet. 

The alchemist screamed, however loose he had been before Lambert broke free, it still wasn't enough to take nearly his whole cock in one go. He clenched, muscles spasming in pain around the intrusion, and Lambert rumbled deep in his chest.

"So eager, trying to make me come already." The words were coming through grit teeth as he set a brutal pace, too inexperienced to know it hurt and too far gone into his rut to care. It was only because of their position that he managed to strike the omega’s prostate over and over, causing his cock to fill again in spite of the pain. The alchemist was crying into the dirt, all too aware of the irony. He deserved this, he knew that, but as he felt the young alpha try to force his knot into his sore hole, he couldn't help but plead. 

"No, no! It's too big, please slow down! I'll take your knot, I promise, just let it go down first!" The omega's voice was sniveling, sounding weak even in his own ears. Lambert didn't even give him a response, just pushed even harder against him, sending shocks of pain down his legs as he was forced open around the knot. It was the size of a man's fist, which he knew it would be, but feeling it was so much  _ worse.  _ He was stretched beyond what he would be able to take outside of heat, his fingers clawing at the ground as he tried to lean away. Lambert was running his mouth, talking about getting him nice and full, about how tight he was for his alpha.

Impossibly, the young witcher managed to force his fully inflated knot into the alchemist, who was shaking under him, trying to breathe but feeling so  _ full _ that he couldn't. It was like the witcher’s cock was lodged behind his ribcage; he couldn't draw a full breath.

And fuck, the knot was pressed against his prostate in the worst way. The omega could practically feel Lambert's heartbeat thrum over the sensitive spot. So when Lambert began to grind against him, to seek that stimulation as they were locked together, the alchemist couldn't stop the moan that spilled from him. It was constant, the way he was forced to feel pleasure from the assault. His pain felt so secondary, the omega felt  _ right _ in a way he hadn't in a long time, even though he was being used like the stuffed toys they'd give alphas having their first rut. That's what he was right now, the alchemist mused in some distant part of his brain, just a doll for this pup to mount.

He was pinned under the boy that he had at his mercy only minutes ago, now taking his knot with little prep and  _ getting off on it. _ The alchemist’s orgasm was building in him as Lambert continued to drag his knot over his prostate, and he couldn't hold it off. He shouted when he came, the tightening of his abused ass squeezing the knot painfully even as his vision whited out. 

Lambert cursed as he came, unable to resist the feeling of his omega clenching around him. His load was as big as his first thanks to the potency of the succubus essence, and the omega gave a pitiful groan underneath him. His flat stomach rounding a little at the volume of thick come that was flooding him, the knot making sure it all stayed inside. 

The omega trembled, feeling oversensitive and  _ too full  _ when the young witcher draped over his back, still twitching his hips as the last small spurts of come leaked out. He was purring, nipping at the omega’s shoulder as they stayed knotted together. 

"My omega," he hummed, nosing through the mess of blond hair. 

The newly-presented alpha didn't have the patience for his knot to deflate. After only a few moments of pause to remove his binds, he was back to rutting. He pulled back, full knot tugging on the alchemist’s ruined rim as he cried.

"It's too big!" He didn't even know why he tried, the complaint falling on deaf ears as the witcher thrust back harder, ripping the knot from him with a rush of sticky seed. The omega cried out at the pain, a full scream being punched out of him when Lambert slammed back in. A hand wrapped around the omega's spent cock, jerking it roughly even as the omega begged him not to. 

His mind went blank from the overwhelming sensations as Lambert continued to fuck the knot in and out of him. Lambert was cooing above him, thanking the alchemist for helping him present, helping him be a good alpha. Vesemir wasn't due to come back for days, the alchemist had told no one to visit his hut because he expected to be experimenting on this alpha. Now, there would be no one to save him from this, he realized with distant horror. 

He was going to serve this pup through his whole heat, whether he liked it or not.

**Author's Note:**

> Karma works quick sometimes, huh?
> 
> i'm on tumblr as sludgeb0mb if you want to say hi :)


End file.
